


Lollipops and Candy Canes

by HixyStix (GaiaMyles)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, appearance by Castiel, appearance by Chuck Shurley/God, appearance by Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaiaMyles/pseuds/HixyStix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's been dreaming of a certain Trickster.  But it's just dreams, right?</p><p>A bit of Christmassy Sabriel fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lollipops and Candy Canes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thetricksterscandy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetricksterscandy/gifts).



> This was written for [TheTrickstersCandy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thetricksterscandy/pseuds/thetricksterscandy), who won a fic giveaway on my blog and agreed to let me share her prize here too. The art is by [GracelessTevy](http://gracelesstevy.tumblr.com/) and can be found [here](http://imgur.com/MP2FBSw) if/when the bandwidth runs out.
> 
> The prompt was "cuddly Sabriel fluff" and I was more than a little inspired by the wonderful [Christmas sweater picture](https://twitter.com/jasonmanns/status/535545641628217344) from Jason Manns' _Christmas with Friends_ album and Richard Speight's [tweeted comment](https://twitter.com/dicksp8jr/status/535577224515420161).
> 
> This is set vaguely during season 10, but I'm sure it'll be AU before the next episode is over.

_“So what did you dream about?”_

_“Lollipops and candy canes."_

_(Dean & Sam, SPN 1.05 Bloody Mary)_

 

Sam woke somewhat reluctantly. Dean’s driving need to hunt and work hadn’t taken the holidays off, so they’d spent Christmas Eve tracking down rumors of cattle mutilations up across the Nebraska border. It had been a fruitless day of research and interviewing people who really didn’t want to talk on a holiday and they’d pulled back into the bunker in the wee hours of Christmas morning. Even with a place to call home, he and Dean had never really settled into a holiday spirit; it just wasn’t part of their heritage.

Which made the tinny strains of holiday music wafting into his bedroom more than a bit out of place. Was that… Trans-Siberian Orchestra?

Sam didn’t know what he’d find when he wandered out to the library, but he certainly didn’t expect to find the place decked out for a Christmas party – and definitely didn’t expect to find anyone other than his brother.

Dean was there, looking supremely grumpy in the red knit sweater he’d picked up from a thrift store between hunts last year – but he was talking to Cas, who last Sam checked had been off on some outreach mission for rogue angels. Chuck was inspecting the tree – a fully decorated Christmas tree complete with presents, something the Winchesters had never had – and wait, wasn’t Chuck dead? Wasn’t that why Kevin had been tapped as prophet?

“Merry Christmas, kiddo!” Gabriel slid into Sam’s view, smiling and clutching a mug of something warm and sweet-smelling.

Oh, so it was one of _those_ dreams. Sam had been dreaming of Gabriel, with varying levels of lucidity, since he came back from Hell. Normally he’d be wary of any dream with a supernatural entity, but Gabriel had been on their side in the end.

Also, he was dead.

“Sam, angels were never meant to die,” Cas told him, back before Stull. “We were supposed to be eternal, until Lucifer rebelled and everything changed. We can be killed, but there’s no afterlife for us. We just cease to be, archangels included. If Lucifer killed him, Gabriel is gone forever.”

So Gabriel was truly dead; he couldn’t come back and he couldn’t hide in Sam’s head. The dreams were pleasant, restful sorts, so Sam didn’t try to avoid them and he didn’t tell Dean about them.

To be honest, he’d grown to look forward to them. Dream Gabriel was a whole lot nicer than real Gabriel, less prickly and more human-seeming without all the pent-up power and rage. The safety of the dreams gave Sam a chance to indulge some of the thoughts he’d had about the personable janitor they’d originally met at Springfield University.

And dream Gabriel was responsive to Sam’s flirting in his more lucid visits. He teased with nicknames and bawdy humor and fluttering touches. He was a sounding board when Sam was worried – and he sometimes channeled Sam’s own conscience when things got bad. He smiled and Sam ached when he saw the way those tawny eyes lit up with laughter.

Sam couldn’t deny he was more than a little gone on this dream figment Gabriel, who couldn’t die again or leave him for another or say his life was too dangerous, so he indulged himself. Sam returned the caresses and the leers and joked with Gabriel, who verbally parried everything from compliments to double entendres with ease. He watched the archangel closely, drinking in the sight of his profile and the grace of his movements and the way his personality filled whatever space they were in.

“-some hot chocolate? Plain for now, because I do _not_ want to see this group drunk before two in the afternoon.”

Sam realized he’d been only been half-aware of what Gabriel was saying, too caught up in his momentary euphoria. He took the proffered mug and hunched around it, trying to soak in the warmth with his whole body. It worked – he breathed in the heat from the drink and suddenly the air in the room felt heavier – warm and comforting, not stifling.

Gabriel grinned. “With your crappy posture and my festive hat, I’m the tallest guy in the room. Stay just like that, bucko, I want to enjoy this.”

Sam looked at Gabriel in his hat – it _was_ very festive, a chintzy red velvet spring with a Santa hat bobble at the top – and then around the room. The library felt warmer and cozier than it ever had before, strung with garland and holly, lit with fairy lights, candles, and a roaring fireplace, which certainly wasn’t there normally. Sam knew the relaxation he felt was simply the result of it being a dream, but he still welcomed the feelings washing over him. He returned the archangel’s smile and, on impulse, bent down to kiss him.

Gabriel took a quick step back, placing a hand on Sam’s chest to keep their distance. “Ah, ah, Sam. I have plans for tonight, so hold back on that.”

Right. No kissing, no matter how much Sam yearned for it. Not yet, at least. At some point a few years back, riding high on having regained his soul, Sam had given in to a long-held urge and tried to kiss Gabriel – but he woken up as soon as their lips touched. Every dream thereafter ended with a similar attempt, but that’s just how dreams worked, wasn’t it? You never quite got what you were reaching for.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty’s awake! We’ve been waiting on you, Sammy. It’s time to eat, man!” Dean, ever aware of the important things in life, waved at his brother from across the room, gesturing to one of the tables laden with food. He grabbed a chair to sit down, followed by Cas and Chuck.

Sam grabbed Gabriel’s arm. “Wait, why is Chuck here?”

“Christmas is for families, right? So I brought family. You’d rather I’d brought _your_ father?” Gabriel asked innocently. Sam could see the smirk on his face as the archangel pulled away before he could ask what that meant.

The table overflowed with turkey and ham and all the traditional Christmas foods, but there was also a pile of burgers set between Dean and Cas, and in front of Sam’s plate were a stack of what looked like grilled chicken wraps. Sam took a bite and moaned happily – not only were they grilled chicken wraps, but they were apparently the near-orgasmic ones from that little deli down in Lebanon he’d fallen in love with.

The group ate more than should have been possible for the humans at the table, laughed, and told stories. Sam had practically memorized all of Dean’s stories over the years, but Dean was a master at spinning a good tale and Sam enjoyed hearing them all yet again. The really entrancing and entirely entertaining anecdotes, though, came from Gabriel.

“She was young and confused and scared, but she was brave. She about took me out with a broom when I showed up! But Joseph… well, I’d tell you he wet his robe when I said his name, but that’d be an understatement. Don’t even get me started on her cousin and Zachariah, the putz,” Gabriel warned, poking the air with his fork for emphasis.

There was barely a dent in the amount of food on the table when the group wandered away two hours later. Chuck produced a Scrabble game from somewhere and enlisted both Dean and Cas to play with him. While they argued over the legitimacy of the Enochian tiles that Cas kept using and the vulgarities Dean played, Sam found a couch in front of the fire, stretching out languorously.

If he still had any doubts that this was a dream, they were nullified when no one commented as he reached out to the archangel and pulled him down on top of him. Gabriel settled in, his back warm against Sam’s chest and legs stretched out between Sam’s own along the length of the couch.

Sam idly ran a hand through the archangel’s hair, happy to relax and forget the worries that sometimes overwhelmed him. Moments of peace like these were infrequent and he wanted to cherish it while it lasted.

“Gabriel?”

“Hm?” Gabriel practically purred from the attention, pressing back into Sam’s chest. “Whatever you do, kid, don’t stop that.”

Sam smiled fondly – for an angel, Gabriel had always been rather hedonistic. “Gabriel, why did you do all this? Christmas isn’t a holiday for you and you know for an absolute fact we celebrate it on the wrong day.”

“What can I say? Human celebrations are fun, especially ones that mean people talk about me.” Gabriel leaned his head back and waggled his eyebrows at Sam. “And you think the actual day matters? Nah, kiddo. It’s all symbolism. Like devil’s traps! You think squiggles made with spray paint have any inherent power? It’s all in what they represent. So a few months difference here or there? And the fact that you all picked a date that was originally a pagan holiday? Not that big a deal. Points for pissing off the pantheons, though. I had lots of fun watching the fallout from that one.”

“Yeah, I bet you did,” Sam snorted, wrapping one arm across Gabriel’s stomach and removing the archangel’s Santa hat with the other, dropping it to the floor beside them.

“So how’s life, Sam? My little bro still trying to wrestle all the angels back in to Heaven? Tell him to watch out, we angels are notorious for causing permanent hip injuries.”

Sam idly caressed Gabriel’s waist with his fingers as he caught Gabriel up on all that had happened since the last dream; this had become a staple of his dreams, and frankly an incredibly helpful part. Sam talked through what had happened and Gabriel asked questions or pointed out important bits of information. Sure, it was all just Sam’s subconscious, but it let him process evidence more thoroughly than when he was fully awake.

As he talked, the edges of the room grew fuzzy to Sam’s vision, slowly shrinking in on them. The chatter from the Scrabble game slowly faded out as Dean and Cas and Chuck dissolved from view. The firelight grew stronger, as did the twinkling fairy lights over the mantel and around the couch. The dream world had closed to just Sam and Gabriel and their immediate surroundings.

Sam nuzzled Gabriel’s hair and breathed in his scent as the archangel took over the conversation. He closed his eyes, content to lie there enjoying the crackling warmth of the fireplace and the feeling of holding someone in his arms again. Gabriel babbled idly, pausing only for Sam to hum a response to an inferred question. He had almost dozed off when Gabriel shifted, rolling over to lie directly atop him.

“Are you falling asleep on me, kiddo?” he asked, propping himself up with his elbows on Sam’s chest and peering down at him.

Sam grunted assent, eliciting a slight grin from the archangel.

“Come on, Sam. You know you’ll wake up if you fall asleep here. If you’re gonna leave the dream, wouldn’t you rather end it in a better way?”

Sam paused a moment, studying Gabriel’s face: the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he genuinely smiled, the shadows dancing across his cheeks from the firelight, the stray strands of hair that hung down over his forehead. Even the fairy lights twinkling around them highlighted different colors in Gabriel’s eyes and hair as he moved, bobbing slowly up and down as Sam breathed. Maybe dream Gabriel was highly colored by Sam’s memories – and first impressions of the Crawford Hall janitor – but Sam found himself a little bit in awe of Gabriel’s beauty. He was one of God’s first and most powerful creations, compacted to fit in a human vessel, and Sam sometimes imagined he could see that power shining through.

The fire flickered, sending a shadow dancing across Gabriel’s mouth as he waited for a response from Sam. Yeah, there was definitely a better way to end this dream.

Sam reached up, entwining his fingers in Gabriel’s hair, pulling him down until they were nose-to-nose.

“Merry Christmas, Sam,” whispered Gabriel softly. He leaned in that last inch and Sam had a brief moment to savor the sensation as their lips touched.

 

Sam woke _entirely_ reluctantly.

He was truly awake this time, not in a dream – he could hear Dean clattering about in the bunker’s kitchen, belting out a holiday tune off-key with what couldn’t possibly be the actual lyrics. He rolled over, reaching for the lamp by his bed, but froze when his fingers bumped something unfamiliar. Cautiously, Sam switched on the light.

Hanging from his lamp switch was an ornament. A quick glance told Sam he was alone in his room and besides his brother, no one should have been able to get inside the bunker. It couldn’t have been from Dean; they didn’t have a single decoration in the bunker, so no reason for an ornament of any sort. It was flat, crudely handmade out of ceramic clay, shaped like an angel with three pairs of golden wings – and disconcertingly, a red spiral Santa hat, just like the one dream Gabriel had worn.

When Sam picked up the figurine, it was slightly warm, as if someone had been holding it in their hands only moments before he woke.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [daydreamingofdragons](http://daydreamingofdragons.tumblr.com/) and [GreyMichaela](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela), who helped beta, and to the girls of the Dick Worship chat, who provided feedback and yelling while I wrote!
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed this, come find me on tumblr! I blog multifandom stuff at [hixystix](http://hixystix.tumblr.com/) and [ihaveallthesefeelsokay](http://ihaveallthesefeelsokay.tumblr.com/) is basically a Richard Speight extravaganza.


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